


A Lack of Color

by chloebeale



Category: Pitch Perfect (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Future, F/F, Future Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-15
Updated: 2012-11-15
Packaged: 2017-11-18 17:20:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/563522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chloebeale/pseuds/chloebeale
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a serious fight with Chloe that she thinks might mean the end of their relationship, Beca leaves a drunken apology on her voicemail. Inspired by the title song from Death Cab For Cutie.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lack of Color

It’s like a chain reaction—one word said out of spite and those blue eyes well up with tears, making her regret having said anything at all. The argument only seems to escalate from there, and somehow this becomes about every little problem they’ve ever had. 

Beca doesn’t even remember what the discussion started with. Chloe was being flippant about her job at the station, she recalls, suggesting that perhaps she wasn’t staying late to play music but instead meeting up with someone else. Beca couldn’t believe her girlfriend of the past several years would actually consider the idea of Beca cheating on her. 

That’s when Beca remarks something about Chloe’s relationship with Aubrey, and then a discussion about her emerges, and Chloe talks about how close she feels to the other girl and how Beca has these walls she can’t get past. Beca’s honestly trying here, she’s never had such a serious relationship, and to hear Chloe call everything into question hurts her more than she’ll ever admit. 

“Well, say something,” Chloe demands, lowering her gaze. 

Beca stands in the doorway, uncertain as to what she could even say to change what Chloe so obviously feels. Maybe she’s right, maybe she’ll never be enough for Chloe and it’s better to cut their losses now, because Beca may never fully open up to her and allow her walls to fall. She can’t stand feeling vulnerable and she thinks she has offered so much of herself already, she doesn’t understand what else Chloe can possibly want from her. 

“I should’ve guessed. You never say anything, you never defend yourself,” her girlfriend murmurs as she starts shoving her things into a bag. 

Beca feels defeated. 

“I don’t know why I even bother,” Chloe continues, packing so much that it’s actually making Beca nervous, where is it she’s even going this late at night? 

She opens her mouth, trying to find the words. 

“I…I know I’m nowhere near perfect, Chloe, but I love you and I’m trying, can’t that be enough?” 

Chloe sighs, “I wish it were, Beca, but nothing’s changed,” she looks up from her stuffed bag, “I’m beginning to think it never will.” 

Her voice drops as she throws the bag over her shoulder, brushing past Beca, who grasps for her hand. But Chloe pulls it away from her. 

“Wait, where are you going?” Beca asks desperately, wanting to continue their conversation. 

“I’m going to stay at Aubrey’s for a while,” Chloe answers before turning on her heel and walking briskly out the door. 

The more time passes since Chloe left, the more Beca chastises herself for not chasing her. She could’ve walked out right behind her, or driven to Aubrey’s house, actually done something for once. But instead Beca sits alone on their couch, thinking about how much better off Chloe will be without Beca holding her back. Yes, it’s better this way. 

But the regret sets in and the realization that she’s really alone in this apartment for the first time gets to her. She finds her way to the cabinet and pulls out a bottle of whiskey, not bothering with pleasantries such as a glass or even some ice, closing her mouth over the bottle and drinking with purpose. If she’s going to be alone, then she’ll be damned if she’ll remember it. 

Beca doesn’t even like drinking, she hates the way it makes her feel, and when she’s sad she discovers it’s even worse. She’s getting nostalgic and weepy and so un-Beca like. She starts sending Chloe a barrage of texts in varying degrees of readability, but she doesn’t get a response. After about fifty of these unread messages, she sends one to Aubrey. 

Give her time, is Aubrey’s succinct reply. 

Even drunk Beca knows that Aubrey won’t respond to anything else at this point, and so she shoves her cell phone into the couch cushion, grumbling as she watches a home video from finals her freshman year. The way Chloe’s arm curls around her side toward the end sends her into a rage. 

The person she’s mad at is herself. 

“Why do you do this?” she mumbled to herself, tangling her fingers in her hair, “you always do this. She loves you; you love her, stop second guessing, and don’t fuck it up for yourself.” 

She pores over photo albums, the tears dried up by this point, and she crawls into the bedroom, sliding under the covers on Chloe’s side of the bed. She lies against her pillow and god; she can smell her lavender perfume. 

This isn’t going to be easy, Beca tells herself, but she feels like maybe this is the end. The domino set it all in motion and soon they’ll break up, Chloe will move out of the apartment and they’ll probably never speak again. That’s the thought that makes her stomach churn. 

She falls asleep at some point but when she wakes back up she panics. Chloe’s still at Aubrey’s and her mind is still going wild with the thought that this is really the end of everything and in that moment she realizes it can’t be, she needs Chloe, and god damn it, she’s going to fight for her. 

Beca stumbles into the living room, pulling the cushions off the couch to find her buried phone. She ignores her unread texts and looks at the clock. 7:03 AM. 

Chloe’s probably still asleep, which is better anyway, she’ll do a better job of talking if she leaves a message on the machine, there’s less pressure that way. At least that what Beca tells herself. 

“Chloe, I’m sorry. I’m stupid and I said some really shitty things, but I just want you to know that I love you. I’ve never loved someone before, not like this, and it scares me sometimes. You know how much I hate being scared, being vulnerable. But I want that with you. Because I trust you and I don’t think you’re going anywhere anytime soon, unless tonight’s the last straw and I never hear from you again,” she pauses, “but I’m not going to take this lying down, I need you to know how I feel. I love you, and I shouldn’t have let you walk out that door last night. I should’ve given you a reason to stay. Here’s the reason, Chloe. You are the only good thing in my life. My job isn’t what I’d like, but I work there to make money so we can continue to live together. I get up every morning, with the exception of today, thankful to have you next to me. The thought of waking up without you, not having my duet partner, my other half, my ladybug—” her voice breaks. 

Beca’s crying, loudly, on Chloe’s machine. She continues speaking though, her words slurring due to emotion and the alcohol still in her system. 

“It kills me. I’m sorry it took this to realize it, but I have and I’m sorry. I love you, Chloe Beale, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If being close to my family’s what you want, like you said; then come with me to Thanksgiving, you’ll meet them all, and…” she sighs, “please come home. I swear I’ll be better, we’ll be better. Just please don’t let this be the end because I don’t think I can live without you…”


End file.
